Meeting in Samarra
by Kubi-Beutlin
Summary: What happens after 6x11 Appointment in Samarra? Centering on the brothers coping with Sam being reinsouled, AU 6x12 - Angst Brotherly Fluff - NO Wincest ! NOW COMPLETE !
1. Prelude

**Meeting in Samarra**

Warnings: Spoilers up to 6x11

Author's Note: I watched Episode 6x11 last night. And what an episode it was! Just one question...HOW THE FRIGGIN HELL ARE WE SUPPOSED TO SURVIVE THE HELLATUS WITH SUCH A NASTY CLIFFHANGER? So I just came up with my own little take on how things could turn out in Episode 6x12.

**New Bannar is now up on my profile page just underneath my avatar!**

Disclaimer: Wish-list for Christmas: 2 rough looking guys, travelling around in a muscle car that can be picked up at the Canadian border.

So here you have it.

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**Prelude**

Dean had moved heaven and hell to get to this point. Most of the time more literally than he would have liked. Had turned every stone he could find to get Sam back. The real Sam. Not this soulless, remorseless substitute that wore his brother's face and memories to the prom.

A minute ago, when Death had agreed to spring the lost soul from the cage, Dean had been one hundred percent certain of his undertakings. But now that the moment was finally here, he felt something unexpected.

Doubt.

Creeping up his spine, nagging it's way into every fibre of his mind.

The bliss and relief that flowed through him at the sight of Sam's blindingly blazing essence had soon be replaced with fear. Triggered by the same fear he could see in his brother's eyes, as the Horseman inched closer towards the cot. It was the closest thing to a true emotion that had ever crossed the younger hunter's face since his escape from hell. Dean had been watching him for months now. Living side by side with a shadow of what the younger man used to be. An emotionless thing, barely human, apart from the appearance. He had been searching for that little glimmer of humanity, a sign that there was actually something in there.

Suddenly witnessing this raw and heart wrenching hysteria screaming out of those hazel eyes nearly floored him.

"No...you don't know...You don't know what will happen to me. Dean, please!" Sam's voice was pulling on him, begging him to stop. The bound man's chest heaved with the panic that radiated off him in waves. Dean's eyes widened, body frozen where he stood. Sam fought desperately against his restrains as Death leaned closer, the shinning soul clasped tightly in his bony fingers.

"No, no!" The shouting had turned into breathy pleas. It took all the strength Dean could muster not to step in. His instincts screamed at him to help Sam, to protect him, no matter how little of his brother was left in this shell.  
The doubts clawed their way through his veins, like a poison, that was burning his insides with freezing ice water.

What if his brother was right? What if the wall wouldn't hold? What if he in his stubbornness just destroyed Sam's only chance of living by following through with his plan?

No.

He couldn't go back. Not now.

Sam wouldn't have wanted to live like this.

HE didn't want him to live like this.

The moment the Grim-Reaper plunged his fist into the young man's chest Sam's eyes shot open, a bloodcurdling scream ripping from his throat. His head snapped back, veins popped out from the exertion and pain. Dean's fingers dug into the hard metal door frame as he watched the man's body spasm in agony, far worse than when Cas had tried to locate his soul in the first place.

All of a sudden the noise stopped, sucked from the room when Sam's convulsing body went slack on the narrow cot.

Dean was too afraid to move, even to breathe. In the back of his mind he noticed Bobby's rigid presence next to him, but all his focus was on his brother, searching for a sign of life in the familiar features.

"Did it work?" he finally managed to rasp out.

Death simply nodded his head, unsettling calm as usual. Slowly he got up with eyes fixed intently on Dean.

"Your brother must under no circumstances scratch that wall. It's fragile as it is. Just a tiny mark on it's foundation could shatter all of his chances at a somewhat functional life."

The hunter swallowed heavily as the meaning of these words sunk in. Bobby could only stare open mouthed at the exchange, lost for words as his mind tried to come to terms with the recent events.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a heart attack to attend."

"Thanks." Dean whispered, but the Horseman had already vanished, leaving them staring off into empty air.

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tbc?

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**is your interest peaked? Would love to know what you think. I know it is tiny so far, but I didn't have much time today and I wanted to get it out here.**

**If you guys are interested I'll continue. Otherwise I'll just retreat to my other fanfiction ^^**


	2. 1: Reborn

Warnings: Spoilers up to 6x11

Author's Note: Wow, you guys floored me with the amount of response I got for these few words. Why can't my other story be so popular? *lol*

Big big thanks for your awesome reviews! I'm sorry I didn't answer all of you, but I thought you'd appreciate me working on this chapter a lot more ^^ How can I deny you?

Disclaimer: Wish-list for Christmas: 2 rough looking guys, travelling around in a muscle car that can be picked up at the Canadian border.

Playlist: This is War - 30 Seconds to Mars

So here you have it.

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**Chapter 1: Reborn**

It had been a couple of minutes since Death had left the building, but Dean was still lurking in the doorway, eyes frozen on the motionless body on the cot. He wanted to run over there and check on him, make sure that it was really Sam in there, but fear was holding him back. Fear of what he might find.

"Son?" asked Bobby's hesitant voice next to him.

"Give me a minute, Bobby."

"Shouldn't we..."

"I said, give me a minute!" the young man shot back harsher than he had intended to. Swallowing down the lump in his throat he closed his eyes for a second to collect himself. Bobby didn't deserve to be treated like this. More than once he had risked everything to help them clean up the mess they had gotten themselves into. Hell, Sam himself had nearly slaughtered him only hours ago!

"I'm sorry, I just..."

A hand landed on his shoulder. "It's alright. I get it. I'll be upstairs, if you boys need anything." With a supportive squeeze the old man let go and turned to leave.

"Bobby." Dean said, reluctantly averting his eyes from his unconscious brother to give the man behind him a tiny smile.  
"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

Shuffling steps ascended the wooden staircase behind him, as the hunter turned his focus back to the panic room. Sam was still out cold, his face relaxed as if he didn't have a worry in the world. It was weird to watch him sleep for the first time in more than a year. Weird, but yet so familiar his chest hurt.

Swallowing loudly Dean took a careful step over the threshold. He pulled up a chair next to the cot and sat down, eyes still glued to the innocent features of the man before him. It was kind of ironic that Sam, the guy who always used to wear his over-sized heart on his tongue, should be the one incapable of emotions. Not for the first time Dean wanted to punch himself for being so damned dense and not realising what was up right away.

Gingerly he opened the cuffs around his brother's wrists and ankles. He didn't want to wake him, not yet. Sam needed all the rest he could get after everything he'd been through.

A part of Dean wanted to be furious with his brother. For trying to kill Bobby, for selling him out to the vamps, for deceiving him whenever he felt like it, for leaving him in the first place. Only minutes ago, before his last encounter with the Horseman upstairs, he had just about given up on Sam. He had found himself at an impasse, left with nothing else to try, nowhere else to go for help.

_'And if I ever turn into something that I'm not...you have to kill me.'_

Words that had been spoken years ago, induced by too much alcohol and guilt, had kept playing in his head when he stared through the bars in the thick iron door of the panic room.

_'You're not getting Sam! You understand me?'_

But they had. More importantly, they had gotten to him. All these years those evil sons of bitches had tried everything in the book to pull Sam towards them. Whispered venom into his ears, manipulated and pushed him in his weakest hours. Though, even when Sam had been pumped up on demon blood, it had still been Sam. The little brother, that sought his approval, his support in everything he did. The guy that put all his heart into doing what he thought was right, even if it wasn't.

A shudder ran through him when he remembered the coldness in this new Sam's eyes. This wasn't his brother.

_'And if I ever turn into something that I'm not...'_

This thing hadn't been Sam. It looked like him, carried his memories inside his head, but not his heart.  
Dean had been so close to making a decision that probably would have cost him his sanity when Death himself had swooped in set things right.

Shaking off the dark memories Dean leaned back in his chair, trying to focus his attention on the presence. Sam was back. That was all that mattered now. Everything else they could deal with later. Together.

All of a sudden a loud gasp made the hunter nearly fall of his chair in surprise. Sam's eyes shot open, his chest jolting up from the cot. Dean jumped forward as fast as he could, one hand pressing down against his brother's chest while the other one gripped his shoulder tightly.

"Hey, hey! Sam! Look at me! I'm here! Look at me, man!"

The younger man was struggling against the hands holding him down. Panic filled every cell of his body, uncertain where he was or how he got there. His eyes were bouncing around the panic room until they finally found the familiar face in front of him. His heavy breathing started to ease a little as his forehead crinkled in recognition.

"D...Dean? How..." His raspy voice was thick with confusion.

The older hunter felt his eyes burn when he looked into those hazel ones and actually found something there. Fear, love, pain, hope. Emotions.

"Sammy." was the only thing he could say as he fought back the tears that threatened to boil over.

Without another word he wrapped his arms around his brother, burying his face in his shoulder.  
Hesitantly the younger man returned the hug. His arms felt somewhat foreign to him, as if he wasn't used to be inside of his own body. Everything was just so overwhelming and confusing right now. Pushing all other thoughts aside Sam's brows pulled together in worry when he noticed the small tremors that ran through the older man's body.

"Dean...are you alright?"

The easy laughter that filled the air was response enough. Giving the young man's back one last squeeze the hunter finally loosened his iron-grip.

"I'm good, Sammy. I'm really good." Dean beamed before he ruffled his brother's hair and sat back down on his chair, one hand resting on the cot, seeking contact.

"Man, it's good to have you back." Dean just couldn't stop grinning like an idiot. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off him, making it possible to breathe for the first time since his brother had voiced his plan to give Lucifer the big 'yes'. His entire body tingled with joy that seemed to wrap him up in a warm blanket of relief.

The young man stared back at him in wonder, completely dumbfounded by the amount of emotions seeping out of his usually so in control brother. His mind felt as if someone had fired up a fog machine in there, clouding over anything he tried to grasp.

"What happened to me?" Sam finally asked, his voice thin and vulnerable, making him look so much younger than he was.

Dean hesitated. He had to tread carefully here. There was no way of telling how much Sam would remember when the first shock wore off, but he felt no need to stir up painful memories that maybe could be avoided.

Suddenly Sam's eyes went wide in fear.

"Oh my god, is Lucifer..." he blurted out as he jumped up from the cot, only to start swaying dangerously. Dean was beside him in a flash, grabbing his arm to keep him from tumbling over.

"Hey, easy there, tiger. Lucifer is back in his sandbox, playing cops and robbers with Michael. Thanks to you."

Sam stared at him for a second, searching his face for a sign of dishonesty. Relieved not to find any his hand went to his pinched forehead, annoyed by his own lack of memories.  
"I...I can't remember."

"Just, don't worry about it for now, alright? Satan is back where he belongs and so are you."

Instead of answering Sam stared off into thin air, making the older hunter feel uneasy.

"Sam? You in there?" he asked with a forced chuckle as he waved a hand into his line of vision, trying to pull his brother's attention back to himself and as far away from the wall inside of his mind as possible.

Startled the young man shook his head, trying to fight the dizziness that threatened to rise up again.  
"What? Yeah, it's just...everything is so jumbled."

Dean eyed his distressed brother in concern. He couldn't fight the feeling that when Sam's memories of his topside half would return, the result wouldn't be pretty.

"Let's just get you upstairs for now, alright? This room has lost it's charm on me ages ago."

The younger man nodded his head as he returned his brother's glance with the most beautiful puppy eye look Dean had ever seen. Swallowing back the lump in his throat the older man felt his face lighten up with a thousand watt bright smile.

Sammy was back. For real this time.

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tbc?

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Hey guys.

What do you think? Was it any worth reading?

**Ok, two choices:** stop here or go even further with this? Next chapter would be something along the lines of dealing with the crap Sam pulled while being soulless. Interested?


	3. 2: Reassured

Warnings: Spoilers up to 6x11

Author's Note: You guys are amazing. I never would have expected the amount of appreciation and feedback I got for this story! Big hugs!

**Official Banner is up!** Check it out on my profile page, just click on the second link underneath my avatar!

Disclaimer: Wish-list for Christmas: 2 rough looking guys, travelling around in a muscle car that can be picked up at the Canadian border.

Playlist: Never say never - The Fray

So here you have it.

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**Chapter 2: Reassured**

Getting Sam upstairs had turned out to be easier than expected. Even though the young man was still a little bit wobbly on his feet a supportive hand on the small of his back was all it took to guide him up the narrow steps.

The smell of bacon and eggs filled the air when they reached the large living room, but Bobby was nowhere to be seen.

"Nearly there. Just a few more steps." Dean said as he helped his brother over to the worn out couch near the window.

"Dean, I'm not demented. I've got eyes, you know?" came Sam's amused reply. The older hunter was in full-on 'big brother mode', watching his every step. If it hadn't been for his size and weight Dean probably would have insisted on carrying him all the way. However he couldn't find it in him to be annoyed with his protectiveness. The last couple of years had been hard on both of them. The demon blood, not to mention the whole angel and Satan business had put their relationship to an acid test from hell. Seeing this side of Dean was still alive actually felt nice, reassuring that there was still a chance to fix things between them.

"You good here?" the older man asked with concerned eyes as he made sure Sam was comfortable in his sitting position. "I'll be back in a minute, I'm just gonna look where the old man is."

"I'm not gonna vanish into thin air, Dean. Just go already." Sam grinned back, a little unsure of how to react to this long buried version of the man before him.

"I know." Dean answered, still not moving. The younger man raised a provoking eyebrow, nodding his head towards the neighbour room.

"Alright, I'm going, I'm going!"

Dean got up from his crouch and Sam could have sworn he saw a shadow of doubt glide over his features before he turned around and headed towards the kitchen.

It was weird, sitting there in Bobby's living room. Somehow he felt as if he was missing something, something important. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to remember what it was, but his mind was still in a haze, denying him access no matter how hard he prodded.

With a sigh he finally leaned back into the cushions, his eyes wandering over the familiar room. Something was different. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but for some reason the place seemed older. Like he hadn't been here for a while, which was idiotic. They had been here just days ago, discussing plans to shove Lucifer back into his cage.

Suddenly his attention was caught by a newspaper on the coffeetable nearby. Unbelieving he grabbed it, eyes narrowing to slits as panic welled up inside of him.

_'What the hell...?'_

* * *

"Bobby?" Dean called out while chewing on a strip of fried bacon he had grabbed on his way out of the deserted kitchen.

It was still dark outside, so the old hunter was likely to still be somewhere inside. The only question was where. The house wasn't exactly small and Dean didn't really feel comfortable leaving his brother alone for that long.  
He was just about to head upstairs, when he heard noises from the small library. Taking another bite from the greasy meat he followed his ears, only to be greeted by the sight of piles of old books covering every inch of the large study desk and Bobby somewhere in between them.

"There you are. I was looking for you."

The bearded man looked up from the yellowed volume he was currently reading, obviously startled by the sudden interruption.

"Dean. I made some breakfast, in case you are hungry."

"Yeah, I saw." the younger man pointed out by waggling the bacon in his hand.  
"Sam is awake. Doesn't seem to remember anything from after Lucifer took him over back in Detroit though."

"That's a relief. Think it's gonna come back to him?"

The young man shrugged his shoulders.

"Not sure. For all I care those memories can stay buried till the end of days."

"I'm with you there." Bobby mumbled as he turned his attention back to his books.

Dean observed him for a second, noticing the distressed look on his friend's tired face. A thought started nagging the back of his mind when he realized that the older man didn't seem to be in any hurry to check on Sam himself.

"Are you hiding out or something?" he finally asked in a guarded voice.

"What? No, I was just checking some things from earlier."

"Because if you were, I mean, I get that Sam scared to hell out of you with his remake of 'The Shining', but it..."

"Dean, I told you before and I'm gonna say it again. I ain't blaming the kid for what this thing tried to do. Probably should feel honoured that even this screwed up version of him still saw me as a father figure." he chuckled humorlessly as he leaned back in his chair.

"Not gonna lie to you though. It's gonna be weird to face him after that. But I know it wasn't him, so yeah."

Dean nodded in relief. Bobby had been a great help for both of them in the last years. He didn't want to imagine how they would have ended up without his support.

"What are you researching then?" he changed the uncomfortable topic, reaching for one of the old volumes spread out on the table, but his fingers were swatted away as soon as he touched the aged paper.

"Get your greasy fingers off my books." Bobby demanded with a feigned glare. The younger man simply grinned when he noticed the drawing on one of the open pages nearby.

" 'Grim Reaper'. Freaked you out, didn't he?"

Letting out a huff of air, Bobby sat back down and took off his cap. He dragged a hand through his greying hair when he answered:  
"I had a lot of weird folk in here, but Death himself? Gonna be hard to top that one."

"Careful what you wish for." Dean shot back, earning another glare.

"What I don't get is, why he helped you in the first place. After what you told me, I assumed this was just another impasse."

"So did I. But upstairs he mentioned something about the souls and that Sam and I should keep looking into it."  
Dean shrugged as he popped the last bit of bacon into his mouth.

"You think it's got something to do with the Alphas Crowley was after? Purgatory?"

"I don't know, I don't really care. I just got out of working with a demon, I'm sure as hell not gonna sign up to run errands for Mr. Grim-Reaper himself."

Bobby leaned back with an understanding nod. Suddenly a mischievous smile spread across his face.

"So his highness is really toast?"

Dean failed to suppress the chuckle that burst out of him at the older man's delight.

"Cas gave his bones a once over, extra crispy."

"Would have loved to see that one."

"Yeah, I bet."

A dull crash suddenly filled the air, immediately wiping the grin off both of their faces.  
Eyes widened in realization where the noise had to have come from.

Without another word both men were running.

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tbc!

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That's a cliffhanger, isn't it? *lol* Don't worry, I promise you will find out what happens after.

Again, thx for the support!

Would love to hear your thoughts on this one too.


	4. 3: Reemerged

Warnings: Spoilers up to 6x11

Author's Note: I love writing this story. Gee, I just can't wait for January and typing down these pages helps to survive the wait. I really hope I can make it easier for you guys, too.

**Official Banner is up!** Check it out on my profile page, just click on the second link underneath my avatar!

Disclaimer: Wish-list for Christmas: 2 rough looking guys, travelling around in a muscle car that can be picked up at the Canadian border.

Playlist: Map of Problematique - Muse

So here you have it.

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**Chapter 3: Reemerged**

Dean's feet were flying over the old wooden floorboards. His heart pounded furiously, drowning out his heavy steps when he reached the livingroom within seconds. Seconds that had stretched on for hours.  
His eyes caught the sight of the knocked over coffetable, old newspapers scattered all over the floor.

"Sam?" He called out carefully into the seemingly deserted room. Bobby was just steps behind him.

"Sammy?" The young hunter asked again, stepping further into the room. His voice was becoming more and more frantic when nobody answered.

He knew he shouldn't have left him alone. Not even for a second. How could he have been so damned stupid? If anything had happened to him...

Without looking back he headed for the hallway, barking out orders over his pensive shoulder.  
"Bobby, check the other floors, I'll search outside!" Dean was barely out in the hall, when suddenly a faint whimpering sound filled the air. Spinning around in midrun the young man stumbled back into the livingroom, eyes falling on the barely visible mop of brown hair, huddled up behind a huge pile of books and other old junk in the corner of the room.

"Sam!" Dean exclaimed relieved, crossing the distance in a flash. Crouching down in front of the shaking figure his ease drained away as quickly as it had risen. The youngest Winchester was curled up into an unresponsive ball, looking much smaller than he really was. His eyes were opened so wide that Dean was scared they might fall out any second. Never stopping, never slowing they roamed his surroundings, not really seeing anything in the process.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered frightened, reaching out carefully to touch the younger man's shoulder. Just before he made contact, Sam's soft whimpering hitched as he recoiled even further towards the wall.

The older hunter swallowed heavily. Fear leaked into every cell of his body when his mind started racing. This wasn't supposed to happen. 75 percent. He had said 75 percent. This didn't look like frigging 75 percent!

Pulling in a shaky breath he tried again, cautious not to move in any closer though.  
"Sam, it's me, Dean. Come on, man. Give me something here." his voice had started trembling in sync with his fragile brother. He had only just gotten him back. He wouldn't let him go again. Not this soon, not ever. He couldn't.

Sam's world was spinning. The moment he had seen the date on the newspaper something inside of his head had shifted. Like a window that opened, allowing some air to come in, stirring up the thick fog. Pictures had started to rise up, pictures that were foreign to him and yet felt familiar somehow. He had stumbled forward, not really seeing where he was going. Something had crashed, white pain in his left leg, cross-fading with the images, making it easier to see just for a second. A dark corner before him, promising to help him ease up the colours that started to tumble back in.

What was happening to him? Why did he feel like he should know?

Something touched him by the shoulder, startled him. There was a voice. He knew it from somewhere. Screwing up his eyes he tried to concentrate, tried to hold on to that voice so it could lead him out of the stream of colours.

He grabbed his hair painfully, attempting to anchor himself to the presence, to dig himself out. The voice grew louder, clearer. Slowly his eyes opened, taking in a face in front of him. He knew that face, had seen it a million times, but his brain was hanging behind, overloaded by the amount of information that was surfacing all at once. Opening and closing his mouth several times he searched for a connection, a word, a name. All of a sudden something clicked, pushed the window back shut, allowing for the fog to settle down again.

Blinking rapidly he licked his dry lips to speak. "Dean?"

The older man's pained face lit up.  
"Yes, yes, Sam, it's me. Stay with me, alright? Concentrate on me, I'm right here with you."

He grabbed his little brother's shoulders tightly, tried to keep him there with him. Only now he had time to notice his own pounding heart and the cold sweat covering his back. For a moment he had been sure he had lost Sam. Again. That the wall had broken down and drowned him in his memories from his time in the cage. The cage he had allowed him to throw himself into. Shaking off the dark thoughts he refocused on the matter in hand.

Gingerly he pushed the sweat-soaked bangs out of his brother's face. Sam was still shaking like a leaf, but the haze had been lifted off his hazel eyes, leaving behind a mixture of fear and confusion.

"Dean, what's happening to me? Something is wrong, I can feel it. I..."

"Hey, slow down." The older hunter interrupted the other man's thin voice.  
"You have to listen to me, Sam. I know you like to do the exact opposite of what I tell you, but this is really important." he went on, considering his opposite with intent eyes.  
"Whatever you do, don't try to remember what happened after we went to Detroit, you hear me? No matter how much you want to, don't! Lucifer is locked up again, that's all you need to know for now. You just have to trust me on this one. "

"But the newspaper...it's been more than a year and..."

"Stop it Sam, or help me god I will knock you unconscious every time you get that pensive look of yours." he ended with a soft grin, the urgency in his voice never wavering.

Gulping, the younger man finally nodded. He didn't feel comfortable with the big gap in his memory, but he trusted his brother. If his breakdown had been any indication of what would await him beneath the fog, he wasn't sure he ever wanted to know what had happened to him. The pictures had been blurry and unfocused as they rushed by. Only every once in a while had he been able to make out a face or location. And blood. Lots of it - covering the ground, the walls, his hands. He hadn't been able to make sense of most images or to put them in an order. However they all had one thing in common. They all felt sterile, lifeless. As if someone had sucked all emotions out of them before putting them back in place.

"You ready to come out of there now?" his brother's warm voice interrupted his musings, one eyebrow raised in question.

Nodding one more time Sam sluggishly pushed himself up, but his knees started to buckle. Dean was there in an instance, holding him up and supporting his weight for him.

"Easy. Come on, let's get you back to the couch." he soothed his younger brother as he started to lead the way.

"Did you find Bobby?" Sam asked, more to distract himself from the embarrassment he felt for needing his brother's help than real curiosity.

Dean froze for a second, causing the younger man to trip. While muttering an apology he strained his neck to look over Sam's broad back towards the kitchen, where he had last seen the older man. Finding Sam curled up in a ball had pushed all other thoughts aside, including Bobby.

"Yeah, I found him." he muttered, feeling a small pang of conscience for forgetting about his friend.  
The only sign that was left of his presence was the kettle on the stove. Apparently the old hunter had retreated from the room, giving them some space to sort things out. Dean's brows pulled together in worry. It wasn't unusual for Bobby to keep a certain distance whenever the madness that followed the Winchesters reached another peak, but to leave all together?

"I think you scared him a little more than he let's on." the hunter guessed, when he had his brother settled on the couch.

Sam regarded him with a bewildered look. "I scared him?"  
Noticing his slip, Dean bit the inside of his cheek. Sometimes his big mouth really was a curse. He was about to come up with an excuse as the older man reentered the kitchen. Heading for the stove his eyes drifted towards the livingroom. Bobby's steps faltered for just a second when he noticed two pairs of eyes on him, but he quickly regained his composure.

"Hey Sam. Good to see you up and around." he greeted in his usual rough voice before turning on the stove.

The youngest Winchester's glance was practically glued to the old hunter's back when he answered: "Hey Bobby." Dean couldn't help but notice the tension that started to build up in the room.

Something was happening here, something he really didn't like.

The air was crackling with the energy of a gathering storm, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end.

"Sam, I think we should get you upstairs..." he suggested, barely concealing the urgency in his voice as his attention flip-flopped between the two hunters.

The moment Bobby turned around and his eyes connected with Sam's for the first time Dean knew he was too late.

As if a switch had been flipped all weariness fell off his younger brother. His slack body went rigid, eyes opening wide, reminding the older Winchester painfully of the look he had seen just minutes ago. Lightning-fast Sam was on his legs, stumbling backwards from the couch. Startled by the sudden movement Bobby mirrored the action, yelping out in pain when his hand hit the hotplate.

Sam's breath hitched at the sound, backing away even further.

His vision went blurry as the colours exploded in his mind, drowning out the world around him.

He heard his brother's frantic voice call out to him, felt a hand grabbing his arm, but he was already in too deep.

This time, there was no window to be tipped.

This time the door was blasted open, ripping off the hinges with it.

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tbc

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The cliffhanger monster has struck again! *muwwahaha*

So what do you think? How much will Sam remember and how will he deal with it? And what about Bobby?

Thank you so much for the awesome reviews! Every time I get stuck while writing I go back to them to get me back in the mood.


	5. 4: Rediscovered

Warnings: Spoilers up to 6x11

Author's Note: Please don't shoot me. I know I kept you guys waiting for a whole month, and I am really really sorry. Christmas, followed by some health issues followed by a small writers block made it possible...SORRY! To make amends I present you the longest chapter of the entire story. Lots of drama!

_THX SO MUCH FOR YOUR AWESOME REVIEWS!_

Disclaimer: Not mine. So not cool...

So here you have it.

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**Chapter 4: Rediscovered**

The very moment Bobby entered the room Sam's ears had started to hum with broken noise. Like an old radio, that couldn't quite tune into a station and left you deaf for the words hidden beneath the mess of static. He tried to shut it out, to concentrate on his surroundings, but the sounds were growing louder by the second. Flashes of colour appeared before his eyes, so fast he couldn't be sure he really had seen them. He was just about to push the thought aside when the older man suddenly turned around. As soon as green connected with hazel something changed. The static vanished, as if the transceiver had somehow snapped into position, making everything else around him fade as the pictures came rushing in.

_Poker cards on a table._  
_Wide eyes filled with fear._  
_Wood splintering._  
_Falling. Pain. Blood. A knife._

_'Oh god...'_

Stumbling back from the couch the young man tried to get away from the horrors playing out in his head. It just didn't make any sense. Was this a vision? A warning to save Bobby's life? There were too many details to focus on, too many sensations crashing down on him, coming from within all at once.

_A big hand clutching the knife, the strangely familiar height from which he was watching the scene play out. Dean's face, cold and tight with anger when he grabbed the assailant's arm, detaining him from delivering the final blow. The punch into the face that knocked him out..._

Right then something clicked.  
This wasn't a vision, it was a memory. His memory of his own actions, of what he had tried to do. The realisation flowed through his consciousness like ice, soaking up all other emotions like a sponge.

A loud yelp sounded out from somewhere, making his heart skip a beat and stripping him of his last bit of control. He could physically feel the very moment the levee broke.  
Memories came rushing back in like a merciless stream, an unstoppable force that took him by surprise. A strong hand grabbed his arm, but there was no holding on anymore. Defenseless he surrendered to the current, letting it take him all the way back to the field he had woken up in one day, feeling foreign and cold. More and more pictures flooded his senses like a massive blinding light consisting of millions of dancing fireflies that each held their own story written in blood. It were the same images he had seen before, but for some reason they started to make sense, as if someone had labeled them for him so he could make out a pattern.

_Waking up alone, disoriented. Going to Indiana to see Dean without really knowing why. Deciding against making his presence known until he knew what was going on. Checking in with Bobby after he realised he had no leads. The strange emptiness inside while the older man barely contained his tears after almost slicing him up with a silver knife and soaking him in holy water. Realising he hadn't slept in more than a week. Going back on the road because it felt like the right thing to do. Blood. Exhilaration. Screams. Running into his grandfather and the Campbells. More blood and a rising body-count that should worry him, but for some reason didn't. Accepting that sleep was clearly overrated. Joining forces with his brother because it seemed appropriate at the time. Smiling at the sight of Dean getting turned..._

"No." He whispered horrified when his mind froze on the blood smears on Dean's face. All of a sudden his vision cleared and he was tthrown back into the presence. Small tremors ran through him as he tried to shake off the image, but it was seared into his brain, just like the rest of them. Slowly he looked up towards the pale face of his brother, who was still cutting of the circulation in his lower arm. With an audible gulp Sam realised that only seconds had passed since he zoned out, but in this short time everything had changed. His skin felt too tight, his own body suddenly an alien monster he wanted to waste. Impure and dirty, like some demon had ridden him for over a year, doing with him as it pleased. Reality was a lot harsher though. This wasn't like the possession he had lived through years ago, this was worse. This had been him. No demon or supernatural presence had used him as a meatsuit, it had all been him, simply running on autopilot.

Suddenly the worry and care in his brother's eyes had lost their reassuring effect. Instead it made him feel out of place, like a traitor who shamefully faced the circle of his naive victims. He didn't deserve any empathy or forgiveness, not after what he had done.

In one swift movement he broke free from Dean's grasp and backed away as if he had been burned. His watery eyes shifted between the two hunters, while his body screamed for him to run.

"I...I'm sorry." was all he managed to rasp out before he bolted for the front door.

Dean was frozen into place while his mind tried to sort through all the different emotions that had played out on his brother's face in the blink of an eye. The pain, the confusion, the sudden emptiness he had hoped to never see again, but most of all the pure horror when Sam finally had met his eyes. Dean knew that there was no time to think things through, that he needed to go after his brother, but this last expression had caught him completely off guard. Someone might as well have sucked all the oxygen from the room for his lungs burned with the need for much needed air when realization hit home.

The wall had broken and now...for some reason...Sam was afraid of him.

"Dean."

Whatever great promises Mr. Grim-Reaper himself had muttered, they had all been lies. This so called wall had barely been an old piece of paper, yellowed and brittle to the touch. Sam was right to run from him. Hadn't it been for him and his frenzied crusade to restore his soul, he could have carried on a somewhat normal life. But now...

"Dean!"

With a start the young hunter spun around, finally waking from his torpor and acknowledging Bobby's presence in the room. For only a second the older hunter's face showed his own troubled thoughts before it quickly changed back to it's usual gruff mask of confidence and concern.

"What are you standing there for like a damned marble statue? You gotta go after him, son." he exclaimed urgently when he noticed how shaken the young man really was by the newest events, his burned hand downright forgotten.

Dean's heart was in his mouth, as he tried to pull himself together.  
"I..."

"Now, Dean, go!"

The familiar words hit their mark, just like they had many years ago when Sam was barely more than a bundle of blankets in a burning home. Without another glance Dean was running. In a haze he burst through the half opened front door, momentarily blinded by the bright light outside, but his eyes were already searching the area for a sign of his brother.

"Sam!" boomed his rough voice through the discomforting silence pressing down on the scrapyard like a dark cloud. His mind starting racing, trying to figure out which route the young man would have chosen, but these days it had become nearly impossible for Dean to put himself in his brother's shoes. Finally deciding on the main gravel-road ahead he started jogging past the abandoned car wrecks, ducking and stretching to get a good look at all the possible and impossible hiding places along the way. Not far behind he could hear Bobby following his example by searching the workshop and sheds out back.

"Sammy?" Dean shouted for about the hundredth time, but still no indication of his brother. Who would have thought someone as tall as the youngest Winchester could turn into a tiny needle in a haystack?

After what felt like hours Dean came to a halt at the slightly wider crossing point, that overlooked most of the smaller gravel-trails on the property. His hands dug into his skull, while his body trembled with adrenaline.

"Damned it, Sam! Where the hell are you, man?" the hunter pleaded breathlessly after doing a 360 for any kind of sign. Frustration and fear weighted down on him as he made his way back to to house to see if Bobby had been more successful than him. Not for the first time he had to suppress the urge to punch something. How could he have been so damned self centered and stupid to just let Sam walk out on him like that? If anything happened to him now...

Dean came to a sudden halt. He had just reemerged from the car wrecks when his eyes ghosted over the Impala's glossy black paint and froze in place. There, just behind the rear window slumped a large dark figure with unruly hair. The hunter nearly fell to his knees when relief flooded through him in warm waves, washing away all horror scenarios of Sam's whereabouts. However a pang of regret came with the new found ease, because a couple of years back the Impala might have been the first place for him to look. Nowadays the simple possibility of his brother seeking shelter in their four-wheeled home hadn't even crossed his mind. Not after living with logic-driven RoboSam for all these past months.

Dean approached the car as slowly as his impatience would allow. Careful to make his steps heard he inched closer, his eyes never leaving his brother's form. There was no way of telling what condition Sam was in, now that the memories had returned and surprises were probably the last thing he needed right now. His own memories of the time immediately after his resurrection were still quite vivid and he didn't want to take any chances of scaring the man even more, than he already was.

When he reached the car Sam still hadn't acknowledge his presence. He was sitting in the back, knees pulled up tight against his chest, head resting on them. Dean gingerly opened the front passenger door that was the furthest from where his brother was cowering and leaned in slowly. "Sam?" he asked with the soft voice that was reserved for his kid brother only. "Sammy, can you hear me?"

The following silence was unnerving. His big words about dealing with the reinsoulment's consequences where whispering in his head, mocking him. All his life he had been Sam's protector, whether the guy wanted him to or not. Ghosts, demons, angels, hell even semi-gods he knew how to deal with. It was no secret that he was far from perfect, but considering their lifestyle he thought he had done pretty good job most of the time. But how was he supposed to protect his sibling from this? From the nightmares locked within himself, that Dean couldn't even imagine?

"It's Sam."

Dean froze. Not sure whether his minds was playing tricks on him or if that thin voice could actually belong to his overgrown brother he carefully answered:

"What?"

"Sammy is a chubby twelve year old." the younger man spoke again, his voice crackling like shards of broken glass.

Dean let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. This was a start. As long as his brother was responsive and knew what was going on around him there should be a way to fix things, fix him.

Steps sounded out from the gravel and when the hunter straightened up he saw Bobby's worried face appear from behind the house. Without saying a word Dean nodded, letting the older man know he could stop searching. The hunter's tense shoulders visibly relaxed. It didn't take a psychic to tell that the man blamed himself for Sam's outburst, but now was not the time to make amends. Tilting his head towards the house Dean made it clear that they needed a minute. Bobby simply nodded his approval before quietly going back inside.  
"You gave us quite a fright, running off like that." Dean said after turning his attention back to the Impala's interior, keeping his tone as light as possible as he slowly climbed into the passenger seat. It felt awkward to sit up front while Sam was in the back, but the hunter didn't know how close he would be allowed to get.

The younger man lifted his head when he noticed the movement in the car. Dark circles had appeared under his eyes, giving his face a haunted look. He swallowed heavily, as if his throat had suddenly become to tight to speak.

"Sorry." he finally whispered, his voice slightly breaking near the end.

Dean tensed. He immediately had picking up on a deeper meaning behind the simple word. Over the years he had learned to read his brother like an open book and even though he had gotten a bit rusty, parts of it still came natural.

"It's ok. Nothing to be sorry for."

A dark chuckle erupted from the younger man as he leaned his head against the window behind him. "Yeah right."

Something in Dean's mind suddenly clicked. Sam's surprising lucidity despite everything Castiel had said, the speed with which events had turned bad after he woke up... This wasn't about the time in the cage, probably never had been. This was about his soullessness. Dean could practically feel the guilt leaking from his sibling, piling around him like quicksand, ready to swallow him whole at any second. He wasn't going to let that happen. Not on his watch, not ever.

Following his instincts he leaned over the backrest and placed his hand on the young man's arm.

"Hey, look at me." When there was no reaction, he tried again.  
"Look at me, Sam."

After too many beats of his pounding heart the younger man surrendered to his bidding. Dean was prepared for the fear and tiredness in Sam's bloodshot eyes, however the deep level of torment and self loathing in them came as a surprise. All at once Sam looked twenty years younger and older, scarred and vulnerable.

"Why didn't you just kill me?"

Now it was Dean's turn to recoil like he had been burned.

"What?"

"Back at Calumet City, after Veritas told you truth about me. Why don't just kill me and be done with it?" Sam's voice was worrisome calm. As if he was sure that now that he had brought it up, Dean would see reason and make up for his missed chance.

Dean however was to stunned to breathe, let alone answer. He had been there, when his brother had gone through his darkest moments. Jess's and their father's death, the visions, the aftermaths of the possession, the guilt over Dean's deal, hell even the demon blood and setting loose the apocalypse. But not once in all these years had he witnessed his sibling surrendering completely, not like this.

Before he was able to form another coherent thought Sam continued, his volume and urgency increasing with every word leaving his lips.  
"Or after I tried to...to take out Bobby? Why didn't you stop me once and for all? I mean, what does it take for you to figure out that I'm not worth it? That I don't deserve saving!"

Before he knew what was happening the youngest Winchester was out of and around the car, ripping open the door and pulling him out by his shirt. The fabric made a nasty ripping noise while Dean tried to find his footing.

"What the...!" he started to say, but all air left his lungs when he was shoved up against the side of the Impala.

He pushed hard against his brother's chest, causing him to stumble back. Catching his breath he burst out: "Sam, what...!"

"Do you see that?" the younger man interrupted him unfazed. He was holding out his trembling hands while he stared down on his sibling, his eyes wide and troubled.

"Do you have any idea how many people's blood is on these hands? I never really counted, because I simply didn't care!" he spat out, unable to hold in the rage boiling within any longer.  
Misinterpreting the shocked look on the older man's face he carried on.

"And remember when I fed you to that vamp? It was because the risk seemed worth taking, because if things went to hell it would only mean one more grave to dig, collateral damage, nothing else."

He had stepped right in Dean's face again. His whole body was shaking, his ragged breathing the only sound in the tension filled air. All of a sudden a dark shadow danced across his already tight face and the older hunter could have sworn he saw something deep inside of his brother break when another memory made it to the surface.

"Kids, Dean." Sam whispered, quickly averting his eyes to the ground. His hands returned to their prior place on his brother's shirt, barely able to hold on due to the increasing tremors running through his large frame.  
"I killed two children with these hands." he finally continued. Dean could not so much hear as feel the suppressed sobs coming from his brother, constricting his throat like he had actually been there with Sam and not just heard about it. "I killed them, because I couldn't be certain whether or not they were werewolves and there was no time to make...no time to make sure."

On the last word Sam's knees gave out. His fingers went slack and he would have hit the ground like a stone hadn't it been for his brother, who was there in an instant. Easing the fall as much as possible Dean held on to his sibling, when the tears finally broke free. Sam clung to him for dear life, his face buried in his brother's chest, shaking and sobbing and barely catching a gasp of air in between.

"I got you. I'm not going anywhere." Dean muttered over and over, his arms building an indestructible wall, separating his little brother from the rest of the world, keeping him safe.

"I'm right here."

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tbc**?**

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So, what do you think? Did I do the guys any justice?

**Ok, the big question for you guys:** This could be the end. Otherwise there would be **one more chapter**, containing a little fluff and dealing with the Sam-Bobby issue. Interested?


	6. 5: Rekindled

Warnings: Spoilers up to 6x11

Author's Note: This was supposed to be the last chapter, but like always things got a little out of hand. So there will be one more after this. **I PROMISE that the last chapter will be up by tomorrow morning**, so you guys can read it before long-awaited episode airs.

I hope this one right here isn't too confusing. i tried to make myself as clear as possible in the last scene, but it really was a bi+(# to write.

**Ok, everyone who hasn't seen the sneak peek from Monday, skip this next part, spoiler alert:**

CAS you prick! I usually love you, but seriously? Dean has enough guilt already. Anyways, our little angel always seems to forget one thing. Yes, Sam might be broken now that he has his soul back, but otherwise his soul would still be in the cage enduring tortured! I mean, come on! Better to be a drooling mess than to stay in hell. Just because you have a part of him topside (a very sexy part, I must admit) doesn't mean you can just forget about the rest of him and leave him to suffer, damned it! *sigh*  
Ok, I'm good now ^^

_THX AGAIN FOR YOUR REVIEWS LOVE YOU GUYS!_

Disclaimer: All mine! (I wish...)

So here you have it.

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**Chapter 5: Rekindled**

Dean had no idea how long they had been sitting like this. Judging by the burning sensation in his knees it must have been for quite some time, but the hunter honestly didn't care. He would stay like this for as long as Sam needed him to.

"I got you. I'm right here. " he hummed in a soothing mantra when an especially piteous wail escaped his shaking sibling. With every strangled cry or hitch of breath the hunter's heart broke into aching pieces and yet felt more intact than it had in a very long time.

Even back at the house a small part of him still hadn't believed Sam was really back. Too many things had gone wrong in these past months, too many lies left his soulless brother's lips to not doubt this sudden lucky break. The very last second before each blink had been accompanied by a slight pang of fear that it had only been a dream, too good to be true. That as soon as he reopened his eyes he would be facing that cold empty smile on his brother's face, shattering his hopes, telling him it had all just been a trick to get out of the panic-room.

But this right here felt real. No ploy, no twisted dream or fantasy, purely and simply Sam. The realisation enveloped him in a long forgotten warmth as it melted away the remaining chill of doubt. His brother's soul was laid out before him, bare and vulnerable like a newborn. Dean held on to it, sheltered it in his embrace, scared it would flee if he loosened his grip just for a second.

"I'm right here, it's all gonna be ok."

There was no hesitation in his voice, no sign of the doubt crawling up his spine. In reality he had no idea whether or not he would be able to fix this. Right now Sam was like a delicate puzzle after a tempest, jumbled and broken into a million little pieces. Dean didn't even know where to begin to put him back together. There were too many things about Sam he didn't know of, things he couldn't even begin to understand. So he did the only thing he could to for now:

Hold on to each and every shard while he waited out the storm.

Somewhere in between the desperation in Sam's sobs had subsided, leaving the younger man breathless and drained. He missed the numbness, the cold detachment he could still remember, but it was far beyond reach by now. Instead scenes of death were playing back in his head over and over again. They shouldn't have felt new to him. He had seen them before, witnessed them with his own two eyes, smelled the blood, sensed the recoil of the gun...he hadn't felt them, though.

Not really.

Not like this.

Grim-Reaper had not only brought back his soul, but also the colours, waking him from sleepwalking in a black and white world. They poured over his lifeless memories and drenched them in emotions, made them tangible and frightening raw. He wanted to throw up. Spit out the filth hoarding inside of him, but he knew it wouldn't help. Nothing would. He had made those choices of his own free will. There was no changing that, no matter how disturbing they seemed in retrospect. What scared him the most, though, was the twisted part somewhere in his brain that could still see the logic hidden underneath the newly added layers of guilt. It was disgusting. He felt like two persons at once, Jekyll and Hyde, crammed into one tiny body, barely able to contain the chasm between them. Which one was the real Sam? He didn't know anymore.

His tears had long run dry when the sobs finally stopped. Pulling in a trembling breath he felt himself relax into the warmth surrounding him. Only then did Sam consciously notice the tear-soaked shirt beneath his face, firm arms holding on to him, the head that rested at the back of his neck. Dean.

A sad smile spread across his tired face. He should have known. Against all odds his brother had never given up on him, why should he see reason now?  
Screwing up his eyes he let himself soak up the undeserved comfort for a couple of seconds longer before he slowly started to pull away.

Dean immediately felt the change in the younger man. Lifting his head he stared into bloodshot eyes, looking up at him in a way that made his throat constrict all over again.

"Hey Sammy." he said with a small smile.

"Hey." came the croaked out answer, barely more than a whisper.

Sam quickly averted his eyes when he noticed the raw emotions in his siblings glance. Dean was looking at him as if he saw him for the very first time in years. He couldn't stand it. Not after all the pain he had caused everyone around him. Sniffing his nose he retreated even further, eyes glued to the ground.

"You...You can let go now. I'm ok."

The lie was so obvious that Dean refrained from commenting on it. With reluctance the older hunter loosened his grip, but his hand remained steady on his brother's shoulder. In loss of words he settled for a supportive squeeze before he fully detangeled himself and got up.

"Come on, let's get you back inside." he said, one arm outstretched to help the younger man up. For a second Sam just stared at it, as if he was contemplating his options. But when Dean didn't back down and simply waited for him to grab a hold of his hand he finally accepted his help.

They walked towards Bobby's house in silence, Dean's hand resting protectively on his brother's back. Somehow the older Winchester couldn't shake the feeling, that the following days would be anything but a joyride.

* * *

Dean was waiting for further instructions as he leaned against the counter, absentmindedly sipping from the glass of whiskey in his hand. Every now and then Bobby would nudge him out of the way to get some more salt or a knife, but the young hunter didn't mind at all. Instead he simply enjoyed the show.

Bobby's forehead was scrunched up in utter concentration, his movements fluent from years of practice. Hadn't it been for the greasy _'kiss the cook'_ apron he and Sam had gotten him for his last birthday, Dean would have thought the older man was on a hunt.

This had become their usual routine over the last few days. The old man would cook while Dean chopped whatever needed chopping and set the table. Two plates and one extra to take upstairs for his brother.

"Alright. Ten minutes then it should be done." Bobby muttered after a quick peek into the oven. The smell of fried chicken filled the air, making the younger hunter's stomach growl. As soon as the older man turned his his back on him he slyly reached across the counter for the still warm garlic bread. His fingers were just about to touch the golden crust when suddenly another arm came out of nowhere and swatted his hand away. Caught in the act Dean was faced with an unimpressed glare of the chef.

"Get your hands off that." Bobby grumbled in feigned annoyance. "What are you still doing here anyway? I ain't keeping you around to look pretty, so make yourself useful, would ya?" His voice was rough, but Dean had learned to discern the affection in the hard words which shooed him out of the kitchen and towards the dining table. With a chuckle Dean fled the scene before the older hunter would start chopping him instead of the vegetables. Their easy banter was a nice change to the otherwise tense atmosphere in the house.

Three days. Three whole days and Sam still hadn't left his room apart from the occasional trip to the bathroom.

Winchesters were known for their pig-headed nature, but this was getting ridicules. Whenever he or Bobby dared to enter his room, Sam would just be sitting there, staring out of the window with a haunted look in his eyes. He didn't speak unless he was being asked a direct question and the plates of food the older Winchester had left for him on the bedside table were hardly even touched when he came back to retrieve them. Slowly but surely it was driving him up the walls.  
Dean had tried to be gentle with Sam, to give him space to recover from the first shock. Instead the youngest house guest only seemed to be getting worse. With every day that passed he could feel his brother slipping retreating further into his own mind, blind to the world around him.

For months Dean had put up with the soulless version of him, always looking over his shoulder in case that thing suddenly decided to turn on him. He had left Lisa and Ben, put everything on the line in order to get his real family back and taken hit after hit in the process. But not once in all this time had he felt as helpless as he did right now. Sam was finally back with him, but ironically Dean was now the one that couldn't feel it.

There was no annoyed voice telling him to stop smacking while he ate, cause Sam stayed in his room. No eye-roll when he bantered with Bobby, cause Sam wasn't there to see it. No goddamn sign that the guy was even still breathing, unless Dean went upstairs to check for himself.

"You know what, that's it." he finally burst out, forcefully putting down the plates he had just retrieved from the cupboard.

Startled by the unexpected mood swing Bobby spun around, ladle frozen in midair.  
"What is?"

"Sam. He's been up there for days, moping in the dark like one of these guys in those cheesy vampire movies." Dean's voice was coloured with the frustration, that had been eating on him.

With a tired sigh Bobby put down the cooking utensil and wiped his hands on his apron, unconsciously adding a new stain to the collection.  
"I know, son. Believe me, I know."

All the lightness from earlier had vanished as uncomfortable silence settled over them, only interrupted by the sizzling noises from the oven.  
Dean was leaning heavily on one of the chairs, face tight in anger when the older hunter spoke up again.

"What do you wanna do about it, though? You tried to talk to him, hell, we both did, but there ain't nothing getting through that stubborn head of his."

"Well, then I'll just have to try again." the young man exclaimed exasperated, pushing himself off the chair with such force, the other man had to flinch as it hit the table.

Dean rubbed a hand over his face in order to compose himself. Nonetheless he was still vibrating when he added more quietly:  
"I'm not gonna let him do this to himself any longer, Bobby. I can't. It's killing him."

The older hunter considered him compassionately for a moment. He had known the Winchesters long enough to be able to tell when it was time to bite your tongue and simply go with the gut-feeling these boys had for one another.  
"Think this time he'll actually listen?"

"Oh, he better." Dean answered defiantly, drowning the rest of his whiskey in one gulp and setting the glass down with an audible thud.

* * *

He had been pacing the hall to his sibling's room for almost two minutes and still not come up with a plan of how to convince his brother to come downstairs with him. The thought of simply dragging him by the hair became more and more appealing by the second, but he knew that wouldn't work either. With a sigh Dean finally gave up and decided on improvisation, as always. Hesitantly he tapped his hand against the door a couple of times, not really expecting an answer, before he carefully poked his head inside the room.  
All prior cockiness instantly vanished when his eyes fell on his brother. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the man was drowning. He was sitting by the window, barely acknowledging his presence before he averted his glance back outside. His skin was pale in the bright sunlight. Dark circles had formed under his haunted eyes, telling Dean everything he needed to know about the amount of sleep his sibling had gotten lately, or more precisely lack thereof. Never would he have thought that his words about _'having a soul equals suffering'_, from when they had been working the fairy case, would come back to bite him in the ass.

Clearing his throat, the hunter willed his voice to sound as confident and normal as possible.  
"Hey. Dinner is almost ready, if you want to come downstairs."

"I'm not hungry." came the calm reply. The unspoken hint for him to leave was more than notable, even though the young man's voice had been nearly bare of emotions.

Dean sighed as he felt the frustration well up had done this little dance countless times over the past few days and every time he had backed down. Not this time. He was done dancing. With arms crossed over his chest the hunter leaned provocative against the door frame and waited.

The seconds ticked by painfully slow until Sam finally looked up at him and repeated his statement.  
"I told you, I'm not..."

"I don't care." Dean shot back, not missing a beat. He kept his tone in check, but the tight line of his jaw indicated quite the opposite. The younger man's eyes narrowed, obviously annoyed by the sudden interruption of their usual pattern. Dean knew he was playing with fire here, but he was sick of falling in line with his brother's likings. Ever since the memories had returned Sam's mood had been running wild with him. Starting with the guilt laden breakdown outside and ending with a rollercoaserride-like spectrum of emotions whenever the hunter had poked his head through the door. Most of the time he was able to hide it quite well, but the older Winchester had always been good at paying attention to detail when it came to his sibling. Like for example the deadly glare he was throwing his way at that very moment. Unfazed he held the younger man's eyes and prepared himself for the the staring contest that would inevitably follow.

"Dean, get out." the man warned in a lot harsher tone than his brother would have expected.

The air around them crackled with growing tension as both men's temper flared, neither of them willing to be the first to look away. It was a silly remnant of their childhood, which had often proven to be the only way of settling an argument without the use of fists. Dean, being the older brother, had a natural talent for this kind of thing, even though Sam's stubbornness and his recurring arguments with their dad had evened out the battlefield years ago.

And judging by the slow but sure growth of the burning sensation in the older man's eyes, his brother's stubbornness had only increased over the last few days. A direct confrontation was the last thing he had wanted to accomplish, but Sam's glare was only adding oil to the fire. Furthermore the past couple of days had stretched his patience to the breaking point, making him even bolder than usual.

His voice vibrated with suppressed anger when he spoke:  
"The way I see it, you have two options here, Sam. Either you come down by yourself and keep your dignity, or help me god, I will drag your stubborn ass down there with force. Your choice."

He was expecting a snappy retort, an insult, maybe even one of the usual threats, however nothing could have prepared him for the cold and humourless laughter that suddenly erupted from his younger sibling. In an instant the temperature in the room drooped by a couple of degrees, all playfulness and childhood memories forgotten.  
Sam was on his feet in one swift movement, causing his surprised brother to take an involuntary step back.

The younger man's body was trembling with overboiling emotions. Emotions that had been locked up inside, burning for days without any kind of outlet.

"Try me." he just about growled.

Even though Sam had already broken eye-contact the older hunter didn't dare to blink. He was frozen in place, aghasted at his brother's extreme behaviour and quite frankly a little bit scared. The usual pained look in the tall man's eyes had been replaced by an iciness, Dean had never seen in them before. Even without his soul his cold stare had been carrying a certain bleakness with it. This right now was something else entirely. There was no room left for indifference in his glare, just unrestrained anger in it's purest form.

While the older hunter tried to regain his voice the other man continued to tower over him, apparently expecting an answer. Dean tried to remember the question, but his mind had gone completely blank in his alarmed state. All he could focus on was the bone-chilling expression in his brother's eyes. He was so thrown off course that all his usually carefully assembled guards had dropped, clearing the way for his raw desperation to leak through as he whispered:

"What the hell is going on with you?"

Sam's angry stance faltered as soon as the words had left his brother's lips. Taken aback he stared into the shorter man's pale face, while he waited for the wave of his own emotions to ease up and allow his brain to kick back in. A heavy gasp escaped his lungs, taking the last remains of rage with it. Only then became he aware of the unfamiliar vulnerability in the wide green eyes staring back at him. Like looking into a mirror his brother's face reflected his own words and actions without distortion back at him, showing him what his erratic behaviour was doing to the people around him, especially Dean.

Outbursts like this one were the main reason why he had restricted himself to his room. They had started up as soon as the memories had found back to their rightful place inside of his mind. He had tried to get them under control, but they came without warning and ran him down before he even had time to react. Just as quickly they would be gone, leaving him gasping for air like a fish out of water. Fortunately their frequency seemed to be declining, nonetheless the progress was slower than he would have liked.

"I...I didn't mean..." Sam stammered, his wide eyes quickly averting to the floor as he took a wobbly step back. Despite the young man's attempts to swallow the lump the words got stuck in his throat and refused to come out.

Dean was still reeling from the scene he had just witnessed. He had been already aware of his brother's mood swings, but this was extreme, even for Sam.

"You're kind of scaring me, dude." he stated a little more audible, than before. If he had known what his impulsive actions might cause he never would have pushed his brother this far.

The younger Winchester's jaw visibly tensed as willed his voice to work.

"I'm scaring myself."

Finally finding the courage to meet his older siblings eyes he looked up. His face showed how shaken he was by his own outburst as he nervously started to pace through the room.

„I've got all of these feelings running through me, but it's like I don't even remember what to do with them. Like they were just placed there by mistake. I'm getting better at holding them in, but everything that slips by comes out exaggerated and I just can't seem to stop it. Especially when I think of the time before I got my soul back. It's like my emotions try to make up for missed time, or something."

The older hunter had listened in silence to the unexpected flood of words. In merely a couple of minutes Sam had talked more than in the past few days put together. More importantly, though, his brother was finally opening up and letting him in on the chaos coursing through that 'freeky' head of his, as Dean liked to refer to it.

All of a sudden things were starting to make sense. The mood swings, Sam's wish to be left alone, the breakdown just after his memories had returned, just everything. Hadn't it been for the seriousness of the situation Dean probably would have gotten a good laugh out his sibling's PMS-like symptoms, but with the way things were he was too stunned to find his humour.

„Why didn't you tell me about this?" he asked instead.

Sam's eyes returned shamefully to the floor before he meekly answered:

„I didn't want to scare you."

With a chuckle the older hunter shook his head. „Well, bang up job on that."

When he looked back up at his sibling he could see his frown increase by the second. Something else was bothering him and apparently he wasn't too keen on sharing it. Knowing his brother's need to get certain things off his chest the hunter simply waited in silence until the young man would spill.

„Dean, what if having my soul back isn't enough? There is still a part of me that understands the choices I made before it got put back in and it scares the crap out of me. What if it nothing is changed?"

It was obvious how much this last confession had cost the young man as he slumped on the edge of the bed, head buried in his hands. Like all Winchesters Sam wasn't one to admit his own weaknesses, especially towards his brother. It left them vulnerable for attacks, something their father had spent years on breaking them loose of. Dean knew he had to tread lightly here.

Carefully he contemplated his next words, since his attempt of getting his brother back on track would very likely stand or fall by them.

"Sam. Having your soul back has already changed things, can't you see that?"

Slowly he walked to where his sibling was sitting and crouched down, so the younger man would have to look at him.

"All this guilt and the pain that's eating at you...it's proof of that. Different to you Robo-Cop never lost sleep about what he had done. Well...technically he didn't...need sleep, but...you know what I mean." he ended awkwardly, stumbling over his own words. There was a reason why he hated heart-to-hearts like these.

Sam's eyes briefly lightened up in amusement over his unwieldiness, before they turned serious again.  
"Could you stop calling me that?"

"What?"

"Stop calling me Robo-Cop."

Dean gave him a puzzled look.  
"I'm not. "

With a sigh Sam straightened up a little, while his face adopted the same lecturing expression it always used get whenever his brother was missing the point of something.

"Yes, Dean, you are. Don't you get it? There is no _'other guy'_ in here, maybe there never was. All this time it was still me. Everything _'he'_ did or said..."

"Sam, stop. Stop it, ok?" the older hunter quickly interfered before his sibling had the chance to latch on to the topic. "You got all these weird memories floating around in your head, not to mention your emotional rollercoaster-ride right now. I get it, I do. But you are going to listen to me very closely, because I'm only going to say this once. I've known you for all your life. I've seen the way you go after your goals and I've watched you make some pretty bad choices along the way. And I spend more than enough time with the soulless version of you to know the difference. So trust me when I tell you: that thing or guy, or whatever it was, was nothing like you. I mean, he looked like you and he maybe even had your brains, but it wasn't you."

Sam was looking a little dumbfounded when the hunter had ended his speech. He still wasn't used to this new, more open side of his big brother. It was hard to tell why, but somehow it carried his mind all the way back to when they were kids. Back then he had always taken Dean's words as gospel. A lopsided grin and a simple _'Everything is going to be ok. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you.'_ had been enough to set Sam's mind at ease, no matter how bad things were going at the time. This new side of Dean was just as hard to oppose, let alone the sheer conviction in his eyes, that left no room for any kind of a doubt that he was right about this.

With a puff of air the young man shook his head to clear his thoughts, unable to keep in the small smile that was pulling at the corner of his lips.  
Dean's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree as soon as he noticed it, which was of course immediately. Sure, it was barely noticeable, but it was a start. Without thinking he flashed one of his glacier-melting grins, earning himself an eye-roll from his brother. This one little gesture so loudly screamed 'Sam' that he had to restrain himself from hugging the man. All of a sudden the suffocating weight he had grown accustomed to carrying on his shoulders fell off him, allowing him to take his first deep breath in more than a year.

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tbc

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And like I said, one more chapter off Fluff (and a rather short one at that) will be up by Friday morning, then this baby will be golden ^^. Hope you guys liked this one, feel free to leave your comments by using that beautiful 'review' button ^^


	7. 6: Reinforced

Warnings: Spoilers up to 6x11

Author's Note: DAM DAM DAM DAM: Here it is! THE VERY LAST installment of 'Meeting at Samarra'! I know it is a week late, but a couple of pale douchebags and someone weird chick I've never seen before got in the way of my muse.

BTW: Somewhere in the past chapters I used the word 'humbled', thinking it meant the same thing as 'honored'...sorry folks...my mistake!

_THX AGAIN FOR YOUR REVIEWS LOVE YOU GUYS!_

Disclaimer: All mine! (I wish...)

So here you have it.

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**Chapter 6: Reinforced**

As soon as they had entered the livingroom Dean pulled Bobby aside and explained his brother's situation to the older hunter, cautioning him to give Sam time and space to accommodate to all these new sensations. Meanwhile said Winchester stood awkwardly near the table, unsure whether to take a seat or bolt back upstairs. Already his emotions were running wild, especially when he dared to dart a glance towards the bearded hunter. It wasn't the case that the young man liked being boarded-up in his room like a hermit, but so far the issues between him and Bobby had not been resolved. Different to his brother, who seemed to be handing out second chances as easily as flyers lately, there was no way of telling if the older man could ever forgive him for what he had done. Sam's shoulders visibly slumped at the thought. His eyes flickered longingly back towards the door, but his sibling was already on his way over to him.  
Dean apparantly had noticed his distress and swiftly relieved him of the decision by manhandling him into a chair and gave his shoulder a supportive squeeze.

Throughout dinner Sam kept to himself, grateful to have a plate in front of him to stare at and barely payed attention to the relaxed conversation at the table. Both hunters would repeatedly cast side-glances at him to check how he was holding up, but didn't bother him for the time being. The young man knew how childish his behaviour was, especially since he seemed to be the only one picking up on the suffocating tension in the room. What else was he supposed to do, though? Too many things had been left unsaid for him to find the courage to meet Bobby's eyes, let alone talk to him. He had always been sheepish when it came to confrontations like these and his current condition only added to his trepidation. Therefore he simply continued to poke unenthusiastically at his food until the ordeal was over.  
Ten painful minutes later the table was cleared and Dean had joined the head of the house in the kitchen to do the dishes. Letting out a relieved breath Sam leaned back in his chair and scrubbed his slightly shaking hands over his face in order to get a grip on himself. The tension was killing him. For about the hundredth time that night his eyes found the stairway in the hall. He had to get out of here. Throwing a last glance at the currently occupied hunters he got up as quietly as possible. He was just about to make his way out of the room and towards salvation when suddenly Bobby's rough voice filled the air.

"Where do you think you're going?"

The young man froze mid-stride like a deer caught in the headlights. His heart was thumping away in his chest as an unexpected wave of fear hit him. God, he hated this. Biting his lip he turned around to face the older hunter's quizzically raised eyebrows. From the corner of his eye he could make out Dean's worried glance resting on his trembling form, but Sam couldn't take any comfort in it. Embarrassed he averted his eyes to the floor as he ran his fingers through his long hair.  
"I...I just..." he meekly stammered in lack of an excuse.

"I ain't playing 'heads up' poker any longer, so get your ass back in your chair." Bobby rumbled pointedly.

Sam's head snapped up in surprise. Just like Dean the youngest Winchester had long since learned to make out the undertones in the old man's brusque nature. Just then an unexpected fondness had coloured his words. A warmth that was reserved for his 'idjits' only, not for the man who had tried to kill him merely days ago. It took Sam completely off guard. In a heartbeat his frightened expression was replaced with such an innocent hopefulness, he looked like a little boy again.

An amused smile appeared on Bobby's face when he took in the sight before him. With every passing second in the new Sam's presence it became harder to associate him with the hard and cold man he had been just days ago. The change was striking. Dean had already told him about it, however seeing it with his own two eyes was a whole different thing. All night long Bobby had observed the boy, had wanted to test himself if he was ready forgive. No matter how close he looked, though, there was simply nothing left of the man who had tried to waste him in his own house. Just good old Sammy Winchester, the smart little kid he had watched grow up into one of the finest hunters he had ever known. The same man, who was standing in front of him now, hands buried in his pockets, with a silent plea in his eyes that could melt even the hardest hunter's heart.

Remembering a similar situation years back in a depressing hospital room he said:

"And next time you and your brother swing by, you better have that damned medal with ya."

Barely a heartbeat later Bobby found himself enveloped by two long arms that held him in a rib crushing Sasquatch-hug, squeezing the air out of his lungs. His eyes widened in surprise, unable to keep up with the erratic mood swings of his youngest protege.  
"Boy, you really are catching up on one year of emotions, aren't ya?" he grunted out dumbfounded and gave the tall man a warm pat on the back.

His inquiring glance flickered towards the older Winchester, asking him wordlessly if he had meant this kind of behaviour by his earlier warning. Dean helplessly shrugged his shoulders and leaned relaxed against the kitchen counter as he watched the exchange. Right now his sibling was like a surprise bag on crack, overflowing with every possible emotion, but you never knew which one you were going to get. Anger, relief, sorrow, you name it. Dean had had his fair share of most of them by now, but somehow he simply couldn't seem to get enough.

"Thanks, Bobby. Really, thank you." Sam whispered breathlessly before he finally let go. The young hunter's eyes were suspiciously bleary and even the old man had to bite his cheek to fight back the emotions.

In the meantime Dean wondered if it was possible to send Death a fruit basket.

* * *

From the first minute on it had been obviously that the older Winchester had made it his business to help Sam readjust to his newly regained emotions. It had started off slow, nearly gentle with a little prodding here, a slight nudge there to test out his tolerances. Nonetheless Dean had never been known for his outstanding amount of sensitivity and thereby bestowed the most draining days of his life upon Sam.

The only emotion that became a constant factor to hold onto was embarrassment. Overnight Dean had officially promoted him from 'little brother' to 'lab rat' and was using every trick in the book to push Sam's buttons and help him to get a grip on his feelings. He had even come up with a name for his sibling's condition: his 'newfound level of geeky weirdness', which earned him a well-deserved death-glare from said geek and a pillow colliding with his face.

From breakfast till sundown Sam was faced with a barrage of questions and impressions, childhood memories and hunting stories until his brain would turn into jello. There was no hiatus to slowly adjust to one sensation at a time, no break to take a breath. By the end of each day Sam was so drained, he could have fallen asleep while standing upright. The only consolation prize that kept him from going ballistic was the fact, that his brother was right beside him and guiding him. Whenever Dean discovered a new facet of his sibling's resurfacing emotions he would gloat with pride like a five-year-old kid, successfully putting a stop to Sam's growing urges to strange the man in his sleep. Especially after Dean had noticed that his new favourite toy was still afraid of clowns. On the first day alone the youngest Winchester had had several panic attacks, belly-ache inducing convulsions of laughter, hell, he even had cried over a goddam movie!

Yes, Dean's methods were admittedly dubious, but for some reason they actually seemed to be working. Already by the third day Sam's outbursts had become scarce and less erratic in nature. Even the knowledge that his sibling was having a blast at his expense didn't annoy him anymore. As a matter of fact he actually kind of started to like it. For years their lives had consisted of nothing, but pain, looming destinies and death. Sam had almost forgotten how his brother's laugh sounded, let alone his own. Judging by the amazement he found in his siblings eyes, whenever he caught him staring at him, the feeling seemed to be mutual.

Sadly the growing ease also gave him more time to think. About purgatory, about their grandfather and the Alphas, but most of all about the things he had done over the past year. By the forth night the nightmares had returned. Memories, that coloured his nights red and stayed with him throughout the day as bruise-like circles under his eyes. At first he didn't quite understand why his brother suddenly felt the need to intensify their 'emotion training' and simply went along with it. When Dean's worried side-glances became more frequent, though, he finally understood. The reason, why the older Winchester had pushed him so hard was not just to get him back on track. He wanted to keep him occupied, grounded in the presence. Sam appreciated it and tried his best to humour his sibling. But at one point the edge between appreciation and falsehood had started to become blurry and in the past lies had always proven to be their Achilles' heel.

"It's not gonna work anymore, Dean." he had muttered, interrupting his brother's cheerful voice mid-sentence. Dean's face had gone blank as soon as he had realized he had been caught. For a few seconds they had just stared at each other, a silent conversation that left no room for facades or pretences, until each was back at a level with the other.

Finally Dean had nodded and averted his eyes to the table they had currently been sitting at. With a confidence that left no room for any shadow of a doubt he had answered:

"We'll get through this."

* * *

Nearly two weeks had past since his little rendezvous with Joe Black and they had finally decided to get back on the road. Dean was still inside, getting his stuff packed and ready to go, while Sam was sitting on the front steps to Bobby's house. It was just after lunch and the sun was high in the sky, bathing his face in a harsh brightness. A gentle breeze had picked up and occasionally pushed long strands of his brown hair into his eyes, but Sam hardly even noticed. Absentmindedly he swirled the already warm beer in his bottle while his eyes stared off into thin air. His brother had spend the every waking minute boosting his little brother's self-confidence and rattling through an apparently never-ending list of differences between Sam and his soulless version. Oddly enough it actually kind of helped. Even though the memories were still hunting him in his dreams and most parts of the day, he wasn't controlled by them anymore. Which didn't mean he wouldn't wallow in them every now and again.

Suddenly someone gave him a slap over the head.

"Ouch!" Dumbfounded Sam looked up, his eyes landing on the older Winchester who was standing idly behind him. Apparently he was done packing and back on brother-watch.

"What was that for?" the young man exclaimed irritated as he rubbed the sore spot.

Instead of looking at his sibling Dean regarded the scrapyard with a lazy glance as he stated matter-of-factly:  
"Stop looking like a kicked puppy, Sam. Wasn't your fault." His stance was relaxed despite the firm conviction in his voice. Over the past few days they have had this conversation countless times and his part in it came natural by now.

"You already said that." Sam muttered, glance glued to the ground.

The older hunter looked down to him, as he noticed the meek quality of the younger man's voice. An indulgent smile appeared on his face.  
"Yeah, well. I'm gonna keep saying it until you actually get it."

"I know." Sam sighed and scooted over a bit, so his sibling could take a seat on the stairs, too. Wordlessly Dean followed the offer, giving his copilot an encouraging nudge on the way down. For a couple of minutes neither of them spoke, just enjoyed the comfortable quiet, but as soon as Dean's eyes drifted towards the Impala the silence was over.

"Just, try to think of soulless-you as a car without a driver. The motor is running but no one is on board to steer the thing and keep it on the road. So whatever it ran over in that time, whatever happened because of it, it's nobody's fault."

Sam chuckled helplessly at his smirking sibling, who was obviously pleased with his own genius. "Tell that to the cops who arrest you the very next morning for manslaughter through culpable negligence."

In feigned annoyance Dean narrowed his eyes to slits. "You really are a glass half empty, you know that? And stop shredding my allegories, lawyer-boy. They're actually not half bad."

"Yeah, right." Sam mocked. "At lunch you compared me to a pie."

The older man's brows pulled together in honest confusion.  
"What's wrong with pie?"

Bobby had watched the exchange through the window and failed to suppress a small chuckle. "Idjitts." he mumbled before turning his attention back to the dishes.

* * *

The Impala was glistened in the sun as it purred smoothly along the deserted highway towards their first case. 'Crazy Circles' was playing softly in the background, but neither of the boys really payed attention to it. About half an hour ago Dean had made the mistake to ask his brother for an update on his slight case of memory-schizophrenia and the conversation was still going with no end in sight. Sam had tried every angle to make his sibling understand, but so far all to no avail.

"I still don't get it." Dean finally stated in an defeated tone. His head was swimming and he longed to return to peaceful silence or maybe some Metallica to drown out his brother's voice. They still had a six hour drive ahead of them and judging by the way things were going it would probably feel like ten.

"I know it sounds stupid, but I'm...I'm not old Sam anymore, or whatever you call him."

Dean's eyes snapped to the side, all thoughts of the road ahead forgotten.

"You what?" His brows were pinched in bewilderment as he struggled with this new declaration. So far Sam had only been hinting at the topic by referring to himself in the third person like just now. Not once had he actually said it out loud.

The younger man rolled his eyes when he noticed the confusion written all over his brother's face.

"When Death put me or my soul or whatever back in place, it all...I don't know. It's like first there were two separate people in here and then they gradually melted together into a new one." he continued unruffled with a shrug of his shoulders.

If Dean hadn't been driving he probably would have strangled him for his sobriety. His hands gripped the steering wheel a little bit tighter while he focused his eyes back on the road.

"That's...That's rich." he finally stated in lack of anything else to say. For about the hundredth time he regretted starting this line of conversation in the first place.

"I don't know how else to explain it, Dean!" Sam exclaimed exasperated with a sweeping gesture. Letting out a puff of air he crossed his arms over his chest and slid a little bit deeper into his seat.

For a few seconds the music was the only thing easing the uncomfortable silence between them until the older hunter spoke up again.

"Then who's calling the shots in that freakish head of yours?"

With a sigh the younger man leaned his forehead against the cool window. His eyes lingered on the trees rushing by while he thought of an answer.

"Neither, both. I don't know. Just...me, I guess."

Dean fidgeted awkwardly in his seat. This whole soul-business was exhausting and way above his paygrade. He wanted it to be over, check it of his list of things not to do and move on. Nevertheless he knew Sam needed to talk about it in order to be able to look forward instead of back and he had promised him to be there to help. Neither of them had said it out loud, but somewhere along the way the both of them had come to a silent agreement to take this as a second chance. An opportunity to start fresh and get things right between them. This time no secrets or lies would be riding along with them in the Impala and Dean wasn't going to strain that newfound trust by swallowing down his worries like he used to.

"Ok, John Nash, I got one simple question for you then and I want a honest answer."

Startled Sam's head turned towards him. His eyes betrayed his astonishment by his brother's sudden participation in the conversation, but underneath also sparkled interest.

"Sure. Shoot."

It had only been a trifle really. Some childish detail, that shouldn't even have bothered him in the first place, considering the circumstances back then. All the same it had always been the small moments with soulless Sam that had really been able to pull the rug out from under his feet. Fundamental assumptions he never would have questioned until they were twisted upside-down and thrown back into his face.

Keeping his eyes glued to the road he finally said:

"If you were really thirsty, like, dying for a soda, would you sell me for a dollar?"

A moment of dumbfounded silence followed before Sam had regained his composure.

"What? No, of course not. Why would you even...?"

"That's all I needed to hear." Dean quickly interrupted with a wave of his hand. A satisfied smile started to light up his face as he leaned back into the leather upholstery.  
"All I needed to hear, little brother."

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the end

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Thank you guys so much for staying with this story till the end! I can't thank you enough for you beautiful reviews and I really hope you enjoyed the ride. Now let's hope the world doesn't end before Friday night or someone at **C**_alvish_**W**_ankers _gets funny ideas again and we should be JUUUUUUST fine ^^

Thx again guys and may the Salt be with you!


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